


Scarlet and Gold

by Velundr



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: (lingerie and toned chests yes), Alternate Universe, Art, M/M, Mostly Fluff, No Plot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Soul Bond, a bunch of related fics with, au: scarlet and gold, most is not explicit, no full nudity, on some of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velundr/pseuds/Velundr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a sleepless night after a long day, long mission, long month, Genesis goes for a walk and finds something he didn't know he was missing: his soul mate, Cloud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited from the original since it was a chainpost. It went up over September 21-28 2014.

It was an exhausted Genesis that had stepped from the chopper that evening after several long weeks hunting the fiends that plagued the eastern plains, and he’d yet to give his debriefing or start his report, but even finished now, hours later, sleep eluded him and he could not say why. He gave up on lying in the dark of his apartment and set to wandering. The Avenues were still lit and bustling in spite, or perhaps because of the late hour, so he turned his tired eyes away from the heart of Midgar and headed towards the darkened compound at the edge of the city where the army slept, unsure of why he did so. Sector Five was peaceful in those small hours, and the parks of Sector Three reminded him to water Angeal’s plants, his friend still absent on his own long run to the Northern Continent – better him than Genesis: he hated the cold. But where the parks held false plants and murals of greener pastures, the fields of the training center held true grass. He set his sights on a corner off the tracks where a few late night runners made laps, likely in the same situation as he – though he would have to lap Midgar to receive the same effect. He paid them no mind and settled back, hoping Loveless might work a different song on him in the dark.

There were no clocks in sight, and he’d left his watch behind, time marked only by the soles beating down the path, so he did not know how long he’d read there below the weak lights, but after a while he felt a need to rise. He’d probably sat long enough, and the stretch was needed, so he did so and was about to wind his way home when he felt it. A prickling on his spine and the warming in his chest told him all he needed to know when another, smaller set of boots stumbled to a halt, mere feet away, and he looked into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Well. Hello Precious.”

.

It had been a day of little note and maybe that was the problem. He was so accustomed to doing more that the lack might have been why his eyes simply wouldn’t shut. He’d had drill that morning, but no hand to hand, nor swordplay, not even a ballistics course. There had been a few classes, but nothing too dull nor too difficult, and his mission that afternoon had been a joke. They’d been sent to sector six to look into monster reports below the plate: it was a pack of dogs, not even feral. They’d corralled the mutts into a van to be taken to a veterinary clinic, and one would likely be finding its way home with one of the older men from the senior unit who’d been happily making friends. All in all not terribly exciting if briefly adorable. Still, he hadn’t done enough to meet Nótt’s realms, and he needed to if he was to survive the next day which would be as hard as this one was not, so he slid noiseless from his bunk. Soon he was out the door and jogging for the parade grounds.

Running had always been a strange thing for Cloud. It was easy to get lost in the motion, the strike of the earth echoing up his body, the wind in his hair; and he was certainly good at it, though that had never been a choice so much as necessity. Between the village children chasing him around and out of town, and the lions and wolves of the mountains to dodge he’d grown fleet of foot, and he found himself missing the challenge of craggy paths and narrow ledges, but the openness of the tracks was oddly liberating. He let his legs carry him around the many fields, mind wandering absently to homework and home, missions and misgivings, and before he knew it he’d crossed the grounds and half back when blinking he felt the oddest thing rise in his chest and stumbled to a halt.

“ _Well. Hello, Precious.”_

The man standing on the slope down off the path looked worn with shadows under his eyes and grass clinging to old jeans, but the quiet surprised delight in his gaze was a light brighter than mako.

 _And as first lines go_ , he thought, face starting to burn, _that was pretty smooth_.

“I- um. Hi?”

 _And_ that _was not._

They stood hesitating for a long moment – whether in shock or awe or what Cloud wasn't really sure, but when the other finally stepped nearer he remembered himself and drew back.

“Ah- um, not that’s I’m not thrilled or anything, but can we hold off until, like, fifteen hundred tomorrow? Er… Today?”

Contrary to what popular belief and paperback novels would have one think, meeting one’s soul mate (for what else could this be?) was an awkward affair. Oh, the first moments could be and were all that one could hope: spirits lifting, warmth spreading, tingling from tip to toe, and the relief of _there you are! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you._ The first sight could transfix as well as any spell. Many a meeting of eyes across ports had sent star crossed lovers scrambling across land and sea as the bus or boat one pulled away. The first touch was electric, shivers up the spine, static and ozone. The first kiss was coming home without knowing you’d ever been away.

Which didn’t change that at least the first three days afterwards were spent attached at the hip to a stranger.

No one knew why it happened, but it was first contact and nothing else that woke the bond between soul mates, and the following hours and days that turned it into whatever it would be, whether the rare mind-link or just warm fuzzies on contact. In that time it was difficult if not outright traumatizing to be separated by any distance or for any length of time, and itching under the skin and the sudden, pressing _need-want-now_ could not be denied, which was kind of inconvenient when one had crucial, immovable all-day field testing the next day.

Genesis understood, though his fingers twitched to touch. ( _Was that hair as soft as it looked, or his skin as smooth?_ ) It hadn’t been _that_ long since he’d been a grunt – alright, maybe it had – but he remembered the Field Days and all that rode on it. Missing one, or goddess forbid _failing_ one, could set someone in the officer pool or a SOLDIER hopeful back months if not end their advancement entirely. A few hours of nerves or discomfort was a pittance weighted against his other half’s future.

And, well, at least they’d met now. He would likely spend the day watching the scrimmages.

“I think we’ll survive a half a day, no? _The arrow has left the bow of the goddess_. Just remember, dear heart – at the day’s end you’re mine.”

* * *

The scrimmages went about as well as Cloud could hope.

Keyed up as he was he still hadn’t gotten much in the way of sleep: the nagging feeling that there was somewhere he needed to be hadn’t helped in the least, though he’d at least gotten some and finally let himself relax. Still, he knew where most his gaffs were and was fairly certain he’d not have made them if he’d been less distracted, but he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed about it. Something in the back of his mind was telling him he should go to the watch tower, but it was a quiet voice, and stifled easily enough. It would be louder later, he knew.

They’d been allowed to break and scattered around the makeshift canteen when the rumours started to trickle through. There were SOLDIERs watching – high ranking ones – and even a few elite. There weren’t any names mentioned beyond speculation (Sephiroth in particular was always a favourite) but as much as Cloud usually liked to gossip over who might be scouted next he was not truly interested. There was only one person he wanted to hear about just then, and although no one had mentioned the Red Mage, there was no question that Genesis was there when a tiny voice at the back of his mind urged him to go, that was the way to where he should be. It was growing insistent.

They were loaded onto a bus at long last, heavy limbed, still hauling full kits and in proper file despite the urge to sleep in their feet; they stumbled off at the barracks. Cloud threw his pack down by his bunk and flung himself under the water before anyone else could motivate themselves back into motion in hopes that guaranteed hot water might revive him somewhat. It did feel wonderful, but failed to rouse him. Reluctantly, he flicked the taps to cold.

It was a briefly more alert Cloud who wandered out of the showers as his squad started filtering in, smelling like the offspring of an old gym bag and a mud pit. Alone for a while – they would just stand there until the heat ran out inciting sudden soap use – Cloud dressed quickly, gathering a few changes of clothes wishing he had had a chance to go out. He’d outgrown most of what he’d arrived with, leaving him with not much more than his uniforms and official digs. He made sure that his gear was stored properly, proof against a barracks review in his absence, and hurried out the door, scrounging for his PHS and the directions it held as he went. Finding his prize he let his feet guide him whilst he found the desired message, and rounding a corner collided with a chest.

.

Genesis slept like the dead, but that was only natural after such bone-deep exhaustion. He’d only been awake so long for the nagging tug just below his awareness, but now that he had found the one it’d led him to it was appeased enough for dreams to come: he did not remember them, but when he woke – earlier than he’d have liked, earlier than his alarm – he felt alert and eager. Today would be the day he held his angel, the radiant figure who had glowed in the track light. A spring he would normally deny entered his step at the very thought. How lovely his heart had been, a slice of sunshine and summer sky, rebelling against the dark.

 _Look at me; waxing at the briefest vision!_ And it had had to be short, as they drifted nearer and reached out not knowing what it was they did. _Beloved by the goddess indeed._

He arrived mid-morning on the testing grounds. The secondary facilities were a wide tract of land surrounding an observational tower at the far side of the wastes where life began to creep back over the hills, and there was really no other place he could be, knowing that somewhere in the brambles and bog was Cloud. There were few others in the highest rooms, mostly the Elite classes who were surprised to see him there at all and especially dressed so casually, devoid of coat or rank. They moved past their shock, or brushed it aside in favour of observing the fields and displays for curiosity or wagers or even to seek out new students: Angeal had first noticed Zackary from one of these screens, but Genesis had no need of them with the dull tug leading him, and the elated trill through his core as he again set eyes on what he sought. A certain peace settled over him as the matches progressed. _He’s doing quite well actually, for so fresh out of basic._ There was a little bubble of pride at that. _Still work to do yet, but. Well._

He made pretence of observing other areas and groups, but he doubted that he had fooled anyone who cared to notice his wanderings, though he had most definitely confused them. How often did _he_ want anything to do with any infantry, even the SOLDIER recruit pool, after all? And he clearly had a mark, in the new recruit class to boot.

 _Was Rhapsodos actually considering a student? Weird._ He could hear the others gossiping, and though none bothered him he was pleased his little one merited mention in those who might have caught his eye. Towards the end he did allow himself to be drawn into debate at last – there were some gems in the crop, but it was not the best group they had pulled in, for certain. He allowed that they ought to improve, initiates to the ways of ShinRa as they were and found his way to his car: the troop transports conspicuously absent.

Driving towards Midgar he harboured vague plans for ordering take out and preparing his apartments for his lovely’s arrival, but while food would be appreciated by the no doubt famished youth, he wasn’t going to care how the place looked when he got there, and the next few days would be a crash course in the-annoying-things-my-soul-mate-does anyway. And really, Genesis had just spent the last day mostly staring at him: he simply wasn’t that patient. It was about the only simple thing about him; he turned back towards the barracks.

Heading back into those halls – willingly even – was strange after successfully avoiding them so long. A standard speckled off white, blockish and about as friendly as a turn of the century sanatorium they seemed to suck the spirit out of all things in their halls, but that did not matter a wit when a figure hurtled the next turn into him.

Cloud’s bag hit the ground unheeded as its owner stumbled again into Genesis’s presence and arms, phone skidding away over the tiles as those limbs closed around him. He leaned in, steadied, hands curling reflexively in the thick sweater before him, took a shuddering breath and sighed. What was he doing again? It couldn’t be that important. The embrace tightening around him was so strong and safe; he nuzzled in deeper, eyes drifting closed at the nose in his hair and warm breath chuffing against his ear. He had held off on this: why had he ever wanted to do that?

His world narrowed down to the bundle in his arms – gone from running to half asleep in under a minute – as his chest swelled with withheld laughter. _This_ was what they talked about, wasn’t it? Only the desire not to startle his angel kept him from spinning the boy around and crowing his delight, but the nigh-purr starting in the smaller breast was worth it.

_She guides us to bliss, her gift ever lasting._

He could believe it.


	2. Morning After

There are several kinds of ‘morning afters,’ several of which involve alcohol and can go many ways: from sneaking out in the wee hours, to awkwardly dressing while the other is in the bath, to a nice brunch down the street and another date later that week, to waking askew on the coffee table not sure when you got a tattoo.

The bond’s morning after was another one: one that usually began at about six thirty in the morning when the first person woke to the call of nature.

Genesis sighed hearing the shuffling outside the door as he washed his hands. He had tried not to wake Cloud – had been reluctant enough to peel his face from the golden mane that was downright fluffy now that it had dried in the night – but he had known the moment his other’s arm snaked out to follow him and his fingers twitched to reach back that it was going to be a long day. There were no groceries in the apartment but what little was left in the freezer, so they would be going out to eat, then groceries. Cloud would need a few things with his bag as light as it was, though that could wait until they had food. He had also promised to stock up for Angeal, and still needed to check on his garden, after which he probably still would not be off the hook for reports, mandatory leave for this or no. Which reminded him that he would need to speak with Deusericus, sooner rather than later. And all this while uncomfortable more than a foot apart from his soldier-cadet, who he had scarcely met and was going to be dragging on this odyssey of errands whether he wanted to go or not.

Flipping the door open, he relaxed when the shorter figure sidled up against him as he reached for the towel. Wrapping around the youth he held him a moment, hoping distantly that he would not grow too much taller – he liked this, soft locks tucked under his chin, forehead on his breastbone – before grudgingly separating.

“Let’s finish up in here,” he murmured with a last kiss-to-crown, “and consider where you’d like to go for breakfast. I hadn’t thought to fill the pantry yesterday- we’re in for quite a busy morning I’m afraid.”

Cloud nodded, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“That’s okay?” Honestly, it was not as though he had had plans before this had happened; most likely he would have just picked up a guard shift or two for some spending money. _His_ weekend wasn’t exactly a loss. However he had not been allowed off base since arriving from basic: “I don’t really know any places though. Whatever you want is fine.”

“Banoran?”

“Never had it.”

“Allergies?”

“Not that I know of?”

“Then it will be an education.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original post is from October 14 2014 as part of the horrible chain post.


	3. Favouritism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are caveats to having a bond when you work for ShinRa - what with potential security risks and the needs some bonds impose. might cause some problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically the most recent as of posting here - it went live March 24. 
> 
> The original comment/summary:   
> I've mentioned that their bond was hidden at first – and stayed that way for a while, though Genesis is really more the sort of person to show off his prizes and new toys (and his cute, feisty soul mate certainly qualifies)... There might be a reason for that.  
> So while Scarlet and Gold's been mostly fluffy here's some headcanony fic behind it.

“That's an unusual request.”

“Not really.”

It was Tuesday and they were in Lazard's office, the man behind his desk and Genesis sprawled bonelessly across from him. Or what would have been boneless if he would have just stopped twitching, but apparently the red mage was feeling restless. Lazard wasn't surprised – supposedly the first few times away from a new-found soul mate were uncomfortable and so kept as brief as possible. It had apparently been a few hours already so this unsettled behaviour was expected, but it was interesting to see the ever collected man ruffled. He hummed in amusement:

“Jumped the gun did we?”

Rhapsodos dragged himself upright, took the heel of his palm from his eyes and started shredding the first sheet of paper in reach. Lazard glanced away from his screen long enough to be sure it wasn't anything important and turned back to the open profile while Genesis deftly torn neat little strips, and with his nail cut little chunks to salt the carpet. They really should have taken another day or two – they were well within permissible leave.

“I want to _peel_ my _skin_ ,” he growled at the growing pile of confetti at this feet. It wasn't helping the itch under his skin go away, but it kept his hands busy. Hopefully Cloud was handling this better. “I'm going to find him after this. We're both off the rest of the day.”

“Naturally,” the mouse hovered over something and the director paused, “Are you sure about not transferring him directly?”

“ _That_ we're sure of.”

“Really? We?” Genesis nodded, “He looks well placed to be promoted, you know, and his lab results are in acceptable parameters. Between the advanced courses and Steiner's approval a promotion to SOLDIER would be quite reasonable even without the bond provisions. And Shotgun's commendation certainly doesn't hurt. He might need to kept a little more in line, but we have too many men who fold to the Turks as it is – he was almost poached as it was.”

“Well, he didn't know that. Cloud mostly wants to make it in on his own terms, preferably through normal channels anyway... but it doesn't change how a promotion now would be seen either,” he sat up with a sigh and drew a data stick from his coat. “I'd have been bringing his to you in a week or two at most anyway, since Major Traverse asked me to look into it after she found Ensign Wigdah. I can't really add to it now, bias and such.” The A4 crinkled as he waved it haphazardly. “The people we've promoted through the bond conditions have all been left in poor conditions- they are almost all very badly harassed. I'll admit I'm not surprised that a few people would see the promotions as favouritism instead of the necessity they are, but it's not just a few. Every pair I've talked to has seen harassment right up to hazing, they get very little respect from the ranks or their coworkers, excluded from most events... Even knowing that most of their training regimens are more difficult and intense doesn't change it, and they're losing out on time with their units besides – without their teams backing them up there's not enough people to counter the rumours of sleeping to the top or whatever which just makes it worse. As far as most of our men care they didn't earn it. The grief isn't worth promoting someone – especially not when knowing that that someone would most likely be promoted to everyone's approval in a few weeks or months anyway.”

On the stick was an unfinished inquiry and an uncomfortably large file of incident reports. As Genesis spoke Lazard read a few summaries and frowned deep, then deeper. Most the events were minor – pranks and jokes in poor taste – the sort that probably wouldn't actually merit a report under normal circumstances, were the recipients not always the same, and not filing on average one a week. And scattered among the minor but persistent grievances were more serious incidents and altercations.

“Why is this the first I've heard of this?”

“At a guess?” The remains of the sheet were crumpled in one hand, the other threaded into his hair, “No one _wants_ to complain about pranks – we _soldiers_ and it's _pranks_ for goddesses' sake – so who knows how long this was going on before they started getting fed up and keeping records? And then sometimes their SOs are in on it, or wilfully ignorant, and if the senior SOLDIER of a pair complains it becomes nepotism again and it gets worse. Almost all the complaints are from the one who got bumped up, and mostly to their COs rather than their immediate supervisors.”

“Hmm.” He read another passage ( _... Lt. Stiro has admitted to adding the powder that caused the reaction and was ordered..._ ) then minimized the file for later. He sighed. “Not something I expected to need looking into. Don't most people get _excited_ to hear about bondings?”

Genesis snorted (the paper was now morphing into a small, rumpled wheel whose edges he ripped tabs into and off of – it wouldn't last much longer) and nodded in the way that said 'yes but no.'

“Normally. Of course, SOLDIER isn't normal. More SOLDIERs than any other group on the planet have found their soul mates – it's the travelling. We go more places, and we see far more people as we aren't restricted to certain classes like a diplomatic corpse or business travel usually is. It's... lost the magic, so to speak. And then we bring home these new people...”

“And are _gifted_ with what then our people have worked for – sometimes for years.”

“Mmm.”

Lazard pinched his brow in thought: “And it isn't as though we can just _stop_ recruiting them – they're security hazards outside the program, _especially_ outside the company, and that's not even starting on issues with some of the bonds themselves...” He paused and took in Genesis who had moved on to picking determinedly at his armrest. 

_Ah, yes. Issues._

“Thank you for bringing this to me – I'll read more into it and we'll see what we can do. For now just keep in mind his commanding officer and any instructors should know, and know that nothing in his regimens will be changing for the moment. Nothing wrong with wanting to earn a goal, yes?” His mouth quirked in a smile: “Now go before you damage my furniture. I don't want to see you until Thursday.”


	4. Not Knocking is Rude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted October 23 2014.
> 
> This universe also features Genesis and Angeal as half-brothers - the G-cells carrying Gillian Hewley's own Jenova affected DNA. G+A didn’t know at first but acted like brothers anyway. Genesis would either take after whoever the paternal donor for him was, or after a grandparent or something.

“Whozzat an why’s ‘e yellin?”

Genesis paused his pre-caffeine tirade without uttering a word to peer blearily down at the tousled head that had barely convinced itself to rise from his shoulder. Cloud squinted at the silhouette blocking the door, clearly ill prepared to face the world. Genesis slumped back (Cloud followed with a startled little ‘oof!’) and sighed:

“Cloud, meet my idiot brother-”

“ _Excuse me?!_ ”

“Ugh. My _well meaning_ idiot brother, Angeal.”

He glanced between them, not seeing it, but shrugged. Not everyone was a clone of their parents. “An’ whut’s’is prolem?”

“I think I caught something about naked teenagers in adults’ beds, so that might be it.”

“But ‘m not naked.” He sounded disappointed; Genesis felt the corner of him mouth tug upwards.

“Yes, but you look it.”

Cloud considered this, nodded, and pulled the blankets back over his head. “ _Mmf_. Too early.”

Head cocked, Genesis considered him for a moment before dragging a hand through his hair and sighing, “… and the verdict.” Bemused, he looked to Angeal – now more confused than anything – and waved to the lump who’s breath had already evened out: “’Geal? Cloud, my soul mate. And for the love of the goddess _knock_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They take turns being the idiot brother.


	5. Problem Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone’s pleased by the sudden new immovable object in their friend’s life.

Cloud had a problem.

Now that in and of itself was not unusual – Cloud normally had a problem, and if you thought otherwise than you clearly weren't paying enough attention. Whether it was his and his mother's near destitution (the army didn't bring in much Gil but it helped), or his near constant state of warfare with one of his squad-mates (how the rest of the bunk plus two of three others got involved he didn't know, but he was pleased to see his faction was winning the field when they weren't on ceasefire for testing) or the simple fact that he'd been a moody little shit whose mind changed with the wind, and even now sometimes gave casual observers whiplash for all that he'd calmed, there was always _something_. But these were not the somethings at hand.

Sephiroth  _hated_ him.

Alright, that might have been a bit strong, but it was distressing to receive such utter disdain from someone he'd so admired, and for all that he'd looked up to Gen and Angeal also, he'd never built them up in quite the same way as Sephiroth, though he supposed that was true of most people. And for such petty reasons too. He'd always known in the distant way one knows anything of anyone or thing they've heard of, even before he met Gen down by the tracks, that ShinRa's most touted SOLDIERs were human beings with faults and foibles too, but the PR department had done it's job well. He'd learned Gen's swiftly what with the bonding – there was a list (and the list had lists – he'd been quick to love the man, but  _gods below_ ) and he was getting to know Angeal now too (foremost was the Do  _Not_ Approach Prior To Caffeination warning, excepting if one was bearing the customary large black as sin coffee and an espresso shot. Not a morning person). Even knowing and understanding that for them, it was jarring to realize that the untouchable Hero Sephiroth was also the awkward Seph, who was about as happy to share as a two year old in the “mine” phase, but there it was, and Genesis was one of 'his' people.

So Sephiroth did not like Cloud. At all.

Thankfully Genesis didn't seem to have noticed yet, as they'd both tried to keep their _issue_ to themselves, as fairly high on the list of things to know about one Genesis Rhapsodos was _temper_. Cloud at least doubted their success, though it was the only thing they were united in outside of a fondness for the difficult redhead. He had to have noticed how they never stayed in the same room for long. Sephiroth was now merely stopping by before moving one rather than staying for dinner or whatnot; Cloud tended to remember a lot of hitherto unmentioned assignments, or planned escapades with his squad, and would take his leave before too much time had passed. Genesis was not unobservant. He was the very opposite of unobservant. 

Probably, Cloud figured, he'd hoped they would sort themselves out before he had to bash their heads together and do it for them: there would be yelling and possibly bloodshed. These sort of things being frowned upon (though it would probably work for the two Firsts- it usually did) they should probably be avoided – hence the present situation.

“I'm not going anywhere, if that's what this is about.”

Cloud had hoped to be in the cafeteria by now (it was falafel day) but had instead been dragged into one of the seminar rooms and deposited in a chair while Sephiroth stalked to the far end of the room. He stayed there facing away and looking like he wanted to pace but wouldn't let himself, and was quite pointedly not glaring at Cloud but rather a point on the wall behind him. Probably one of those awful posters. He didn't have the look of someone who was there willingly.

Ah.

“Gen's had enough then?”

“... Yes.”

The little displeased turn of his mouth likely would have been a pout on anyone else. Good. Cloud wasn't terribly thrilled either.

Sometimes he wished he were a little more like Gen or Zack – forces of personality that just forced their way into the lives of those around them – or gently persuasive like Angeal. No one ever really said no to them: even Sephiroth hadn't. Just sort of bullied into friendship. Cloud couldn't do that. He'd spent their entire acquaintance pussyfooting around the man.

Sephiroth's back was stiff: “I'm not going anywhere either.”

“Duh.” 

Sephiroth twitched. Annoyed- no: startled. Both? Both.

Wait, was that the problem? 

“It's not like there's a quota on loved ones you know. No one gets kicked out because another person came along.”

“ _I'm aware_.” Aaaand oops, we're testy.

He wrinkled his nose at his boots and the distant thought to shine them. He'd get docked if there were an inspection.

“Are you?” And softly: “I don't know how other people do things, but I think I'd be a poor bond-mate to ask him to leave a friend.” He peered through his bangs. The other was facing him now, pensive frown on his face. _So that_ was _it?_ “You're important to him too you know.”

Sephiroth snorted: “I notice it's not you he's shouting down.”

A shrug. “We've managed to avoid it so far, but we're due a fight. Neither of us wants to start it... I'm expecting fire.” At that a soft huff escaped the elder. Amused was good, right? “You two just smack each other around a bit and you're good.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed, “Not always.”

There was a long moment of silence. Cloud scratched absently at a scab. From the way he'd been hauled in he'd expected more anger.

“I thought-” Sephiroth cut off, scoffing, “You're so calm. I thought you hated me.”

He jerked upright: “What? I thought you hated  _me_ . You've glared at me from the moment we met.” 

The other wore a pinched expression, almost like he wanted too laugh. Given this was Sephiroth, it probably _was_ laughter. “Such a fool,” he murmured, leaning on the desk next to him.

Cloud groaned: “Stupid. We're so stupid.” He sighed, “I don't hate you. Hel, I'd like to try to be friends,” fulfil a dream  _and_ please Gen, “but I'll take civil.”

“Civil.”

“We don't have to be anything else.”

“It's probably safer.”

“With as long as we've been making life difficult for each other, yeah.”

“...I can do civil.”

He hesitated a moment then held out his hand.

“Truce?”

“Truce."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on February 1st 2015
> 
> They get over it eventually, but until they do...


	6. Red Leather Special Edition! (+ art)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Strifesodos went public <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 follower appreciation post for tumblr - up march 7th 2015.

**FROM** : Red Leather

 **ATTACHMENTS** : 1 (download image?)

 **SUBJECT** : Exciting news!

 _Our Genesis is mercurial and as mysterious as the goddesses gifts, and it can be hard to suss out what he’s thinking - or what he’d like (still fishing for gift basket ideas lads and ladies!) but we’ve just found one thing we_ know _he does. And no one seems to know who he is, but we’re on the case!_

_We’ll keep the faithful updated as we find out more, but for now enjoy this!_


	7. A cookie in each hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted December 19 2014
> 
> Motivated by the baking of xmas cookies. Our Christmas cookies have nothing to do with Christmas, bar a few token ones for mom. We have Frankenstein, Mario, house fires, zombies, bloody weapons, random witches, the rabbit of caer bannog made an appearance this year, so did chocobo and the cookie cookie monster :D  
> Violent and pop culture laden, but not xmas.

“Hmmm.”

It was a gimlet eye that watched the door suspiciously.

Were they done yet? It was hard to tell. They seemed to be getting crispy, but they weren’t quite the right colour yet, but that might just be the oven. He wasn’t used to all this electric equipment, for all that he’d been there in Midgar for some time now, not when he’d grown up with his moder’s wood and coal fire stove. Thankfully the tech was slow to spread; otherwise Genesis might have been less understanding. As it stood, although his family -wealthy as it was- did have and electric model when he was small, they also had a much better used wood stove, so he had simply dragged Cloud into the kitchen to help him make dinner. Once deemed proficient (or at least sufficiently knowledgeable to not burn down the apartment) he had given him free range over his appliances and supplies. Anything Cloud could use up, he said, would be a foot note on the food bill.

Bottomless pit of a teenager or not, very little could measure up to a SOLDIER’s metabolism.

(Cloud’s age was a strange thing in Genesis’ head. Their bond had developed very quickly into something romantic rather than friendly or merely familiar, and Cloud’s youth had been a barrier in some respects, not knowing where what lines ought be drawn, if at all. But he had also wanted to be around his little dearest, and to protect him, while pushing down the urge to coddle so that he could help him where ShinRa failed to enlighten – which had led to a few snarky quips of ‘yes _professor_ ’ and from there to the discovery of a student-teacher kink on one or both parts but that was another story entirely. Mostly though, it was the slow realisation that the fact that, yes, he was very much attached to his young beloved did not mean he couldn’t be annoyed by the stupid things his age entailed.)

After a moment Cloud decided that they were, in fact, done, and swapped out his trays, this time setting the timer. If he changed his mind it was only the difference of a few minutes, and easy enough to adjust. He set about spooning out batter and cleaning up, sampling his work as he went. He had missed helping his mother, but also Genesis never really had sweets in the house and anything served to the troops always seemed to be that dehydrated stuff designed to survive nuclear holocaust or the dried out husk of the planet hurting though space, so it was a welcome change for him.

He was just putting the last sheet in when Genesis waltzed in and groaned:

“Oh no. Tell me you didn’t.”

Cloud paused, measuring cups halfway to the cupboard, suddenly anxious. He hadn’t mixed anything up had he? They tasted alright to him. “Didn’t what?”

“You made cookies. Why would you make cookies? There can’t be cookies.”

“Says the man with one in each hand.”

“They smell good – They _are_ good. I thought you said you can’t bake.” He took another.

“Nooo,” The corner of his mouth twitched up as his brows drew together in bemusement, “I said I’m not a baker. This is the only thing I can really make. Honestly, mom might’ve disowned me if I couldn’t.”

There was an indecent sound of enjoyment. “She taught you well.” He sighed, “Damn it, now I’m going to eat them.”

“Or you could _not_ and I’ll take them to my squad like I meant to.”

“Now precious, that’s not how it works.” Licking chocolate off his finger he murmured, “How many calories these must have…”

Cloud peered at him, befuddled: “Why do you care? You’re a SOLDIER- you’ve got the metabolism of a hummingbird. Even if you eat them all, the calories aren’t going to touch you.”

“... It’s more of a restraint and temptation thing.”

“Fine. Pass me that lid? Thank you much.”

Genesis leaned on the counter.

“That’s not going to save them.”

“It doesn’t need to. The beeper’s about to go – can you pull the last batch out?” Genesis nodded. “Those are yours,” he slipped from the kitchen to the entryway, “these are fleeing for safety.”

“Nope. Too late. I’ve already touched them.” A laugh hinted in his voice.

And Cloud called back from halfway out the door: “With these guys, that’s a selling point!”


	8. The couch (+ art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From October 21/23

Genesis’ apartment was well appointed – SOLDIER didn’t pay as well as the Turks but given what they got that didn’t mean much and even if it did he was an aristocrat anyway – but his favourite thing was the couch. Soft leather, in a rich earthy red of course, thick stuffed and deep seated it wrapped around two walls of his lounge. When they’d still been bonding it had been the easiest place to set up with Cloud since they needed to touch but once the initial bubble had burst weren’t entirely comfortable in such close quarters: each had a leg of the thing and could wedge in together in the wide corner just as well as stretch out with aught but a toe touching. It had worked well, and even after had remained the favoured place to curl in for an evening of takeout or to talk or read or study or even use the normally forgotten TV in the corner. And so it was also the one piece of furniture to have seen the most development in their relationship.

He was no longer sure as to who had started things that evening – he had a vague notion that Cloud had leaned in for a kiss, which became two, then three and five and more – but now his book was missing with the remote and Cloud’s texts and he didn’t know where either of their shirts were or when his hand had found its way so far south.

"Is that- going where I think it is?"

"It could be." His mouth smiled wide against Cloud's collar.

"Ah~ finally!"

... He was pretty okay with that.


	9. SOLDIER Calendar (+ art)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the SOLDIER calendar, and both parts of Strifesodos are brats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally from November 4 2014.

The annual SOLDIER charity calendar had started as a Silver Elite project. The original calendar had been the type with a single large image hanging under the flipping months, but it had come to an abrupt end when Sephiroth discovered its existence and demanded that – since trying to destroy them was not an option – all proceeds should go to charity, unless the producers wished to go to jail.

The next year’s calendar was a compromise. Everyone knew the calendar would happen no matter if it was official or not, but at least if it was the break-ins at Sephiroth’s apartment building would be kept to a minimum. The Silver Elite were happy since the new calendar was higher definition, an overall nicer finish, and despite not being exclusively Sephiroth-filled, still full of very well built men. Sephiroth was just glad to have his home and locker room uninvaded. Urban Development was happy, since following the first year’s precedent, it would be a charity drive with the bulk of the funds going below the Plate; and the Slums were happy since this was the single largest charity for the welfare of Midgars poor. The President just liked the press.

Filling the shiny new pages were the upper ranks of SOLDIER. The most famous, those with the best mission records, and sometimes just the best looking; all dolled up in their best pinup form.

Sephiroth was naturally the first inclusion. He barely even tried: he appeared most frequently in leathers – boots, pants painted on, and his sword harnesses and nothing else – lounging here or there, in repose in contrast to his usual appearances in the news and recruitment posters. But save for the softness of his surroundings, his soldiers said, little different from his normal habits: replace that nice couch, they said, with a log and a patch of grass, and he would be a sight not uncommon in the field. Possibly even over dressed for a mission. They suspected he was a closet a nudist, but said nothing.

Angeal Hewley did it once and once only. All the First Classes were posing, it was for charity, and he was on good terms with his fan club and they were so _very_ hopeful, but in the end he’d been so vividly embarrassed by the spectacle that the producers took mercy and did not ask him again. His lone entry, however, was not from the shoot, but a misfired camera – half dressed, half shadowed with motes of light in a halo about his head, it was nearly perfect. (And if it let the poor man keep a little modesty, well, all the better.)

Genesis Rhapsodos enjoyed it, possibly a little too much. Always vain and not even a little modest, he liked the camera and it liked him in turn, though this year had proved a little different. It had recently come to light that the man in question had been blessed with a soul mate – how they’d hidden _that_ was a mystery – and what everyone wanted was to see them together. Cloud had been asked, and ‘asked’ was to be understood to mean ‘politely ordered,’ so off they’d gone because there was no way the film crew was going to see him in lingerie before his boyfriend did.

In the end he’d been fairly quiet through the shoot, corseted, doing as asked, moving here and there, and posing demurely, until towards the end. There was a noise behind him, and from the stairs he turned to look down on Genesis. And stopped.

They’d put him in this odd leather affair an hour back, and in nothing but it and those ridiculous thigh-highs, held a pose more better fitting a Kalm dandy than a mostly naked Mideelian SOLDIER. It took Cloud a few minutes to recover.

“No no! I’m good! I’m good,” he laughed, a breathless little thing, and waved off the crew member. He held out a hand: “Gen? The whip – can I see it?” _… What was he even doing with it? No, don’t think about it._ “Just toss.”

Genesis lobbed it, handle first, and leaned back, elegant brow arch in question.

Cloud fiddled a moment. It was a real whip, heavy handle wrapped in dark cloth, and a thick leather band, a slight weight on the end. An experimental flick rendered a very satisfying snap, and a slow smile. Glancing at the crew, then Genesis, he slowly, deliberately pull the leather taut, then back across his shoulders. Back straight and amused smirk in place, he sauntered down, leaving the rope to trail the steps, handle passing between his hands, “You know Gen…” lips stretched further at the widened eyes, “this is not a toy.” He peered up through his lashes, “Probably shouldn’t fool around with it,” and pressed it into larger hands.

“Also?” leaning in, “You’ve lost the bet.”

Genesis jerked: “Wait, what?”

Cloud spun with a laugh. “Look!” he waved brightly at the crew. “At least six at attention – you owe me a steak dinner.”

A number of the crew were red in the face and covertly adjusting themselves: “… so it seems.” Genesis blinked, “From sweet youth in pastels to predator in lace in about three seconds. Not bad precious.”

Trotting away, Cloud had the decency to look a little more embarrassed, but he faced the photo team with a coy look.

“Pro tip? We’re not soul mates because we look pretty together,” and made for the dressing rooms. “Now! I need to lose these heels before they kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bet was probably something like 'since i can't keep you to myself let's be the pretty couple that makes people walk into lightposts.' I saw that happen once - I was so confused. I mean really? That happens?  
> And I've toyed with the idea of darker tones for Genesis (and Angeal) since I tend to head canon Mideel as Mediterranean.
> 
> ... I lost the layers on this image and hate myself for it.


	10. Holi Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was paintball day. (ShinRa was bad at 'culturally sensitive.')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted March 6 2015, inspired by the google doodle of the day - for the actual Holi Festival.

It was paintball day.

It fell in the middle of the winter term – not that Midgar had much of winter (or summer, or spring... or anything other than 'meh and hazy' really) but it was about half way through the year by the infantry and cadet count, and at a time when nothing else was really happening. Any distraction was welcome – and if they could blow off steam all the better.

Scuttlebutt had it that paintball day had been started by a couple Gongagan soldiers celebrating some regional festival or other by renting the guns to muck around in he wastes and things got... a little out of hand. Repeatedly, over a few years running. ShinRa eventually decided that it couldn't simply let them go off to cause a ruckus – a ruckus that grew as more servicemen heard about the good bit of fun going on – and rather than shut it down took over. For the past several years ShinRa had cordoned off a large abandoned portion of below plate and institutionalized a bit of mandatory fun. Between the young and young at heart fooling around and the notion that ShinRa was at least somewhat open to other cultures PR was all over the games like ants on a picnic baskets – carrying off pieces to tack on festivities of their own. Dubious intentions or not, it was a fun weekend, but Cloud didn't really care about any of that just then.

He was more interested in how doomed his team hopefully wasn't. The paintball events were open field with ostensibly randomized team. Cloud didn't believe it for a second. Almost every single member of his team was infiltration-bent – all but Jordan who was still a very still sort of person – even the SOLDIERs. They had _Turks_! Plural! There was no way it wasn't deliberate that they'd landed a stealth team and been shoved into the most eye-peeling shade of hot pink he'd ever had the misfortune to behold. Their SOs had probably gotten together and decided that _hey, if it hurts to look no one will see them haha_ – like it was _clever_. This was why he got in trouble with his drill sergeants.

Still, advantage stolen by probably-drunk bosses or not, they had a solution for the moment.

The biggest challenge to surviving this or any round was the higher classed SOLDIERs who were also their own greatest threats. They tended to be the first attacked, but unless the offenders had another similarly classed unit they got knocked out fairly quickly which thinned the herd quite nicely. It also distracted almost everyone well enough for Cloud's team to find a mud pit to camouflage their gods-awful vests and do some picking off of their own. They'd been at it for some time before needing to hunt down more action and came across the end of what had to be the last over-powered fight of the round: Genesis and Angeal's teams. (Sephiroth was an overseer, blessed be.) There wasn't much left of either group. A surprise shot – it might have been a ricochet – ended Angeal's play, and the rest followed swiftly. Genesis cackled was Angeal ambled off, flipping a good-natured-if-rude gesture as he went. Team Rhapsodos (who had scored a nice, muted red, because _of course they did_ ) was starting to relax. Perfect.

Show time.

“Hey Gen!”

_Splat_ . A pellet pegged the wall behind him. 

“Oh, chill, we got an offer for you guys.”

There was a pause, then: “We're listening.”

“If I come out will you shoot me?”

“Get over here, short-stuff.”

“... I resent that. Right!” Cloud hopped his cover-wall – it might have been a smokestack but he wasn't sure – and ambled towards them, “So, we've noticed a couple things. Items of interest, if you will.”

“Reeally.” 

The team – down to Genesis and four infantrymen – looked suspicious, but averted their weapons when they saw he was unarmed. Genesis gave him a long stare but drifted to meet him.

“And what, my dear, might that be?”

“That you guys have. Well. You. And we do not,” Genesis snorted, “but we have ammo and your lot look nearly out. There's still a lot of teams out there – I think we can help each other out, yes?”

“Hmmm. It has potential.”

Genesis leaned over him, warm and amused: “But what are the odds that you shoot me in the back, precious?”

Cloud laughed.

“Of course I won't – why would I do that?”

_Splat._

“That's Two Gun's job.”

“... you little shit.”

_Ra-ta-ta-tat._

(“Aw, _man!”_ “Really guys?”)

Cloud bounced and pecked the corner of his mouth with a kiss: “Love you too, bu-bye.”


	11. Carried Away (+ art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted October 9 2014

He’d just gotten his knee pads off when he was unceremoniously heaved up and over a shoulder, bench and bag and scarf disappearing around the corner. There was no point in complaining: Genesis clearly had a goal in mind and a slight bounce to his step. He wouldn’t be heard, but he wished the position were more dignified. He didn’t quite get his wish when they arrived in the elevator and he was slid across the other, cradled in front of him. The carriage rose.

“I can walk you know.”

Genesis just smiled.

“Any hints of where we’re going?”

It was a grin now – widening as the floors sunk below them, and Cloud began to grow worried. Genesis bounced on in toes: Cloud was reasonably certain that he and Angeal were the only people to have seen such childish little motions from him, as proper as he was in front of everyone else, but the honour was lost on him when the doors dinged softly open on the roof.

“Oh- Gen. Gen, no.”

“Oh Gen _yes_.”

And he jumped.


	12. Welcome home (+art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted on tumber on October 28 2014

The click of the door locking echoes in the darkened apartment and he let his shoulders fall, a slumped statue in the entryway. After a moment he sighed and slowly, purposefully hung his coat on its hanger. His shirt found itself flung to the couch with far less care as he made his way to the bedroom. And stopped just inside.

He hadn’t expected an occupant.

‘Had there been boots in the hall?’ he wondered. He had not noticed, but that was no surprise. Cloud’s things often flew under his radar nowadays – shoes there did not mean he was home anyway. As it was he looked peaceful curled under the sheets, heavy blankets flung back, face in his pillow. He simply stood and watched him for a moment. It would be a shame to disturb him, he decided, and the couch was plenty big, but he had hardly begun to turn when a voice stopped him:

“Don’t you dare.”

Cloud’s voice was rough with sleep, head shifted just enough for a lone eye to glare fuzzily at him. One arm snaked out, fingers fluttering grabbing at air.

“Get over here.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” He was dubious: it showed, “Really. Mmm, felt you. You haven’t been in the city an hour. Debrief can’t’a been that short?”

He sighed. “Lazard’s letting it go ‘til morning.”

The sheets slid back as Cloud sat up, concern brightening his eyes.

“That bad?”

“Mm.”

Cloud’s brow crinkled, and then looking at Genesis he frowned: “What are you still standing there for?” He pat the bed, “ _Get_.”

He wandered over at last and eased himself down against the frame with a groan, legs stretched on the floor. Why had he left his boots on again? He exhaled.

“… that’s not quite what I meant but okay.” He felt the mattress shift as Cloud moved. The younger man sidled up behind him, coming to sit with a leg over the edge – just too short to touch the floor – and his other shin bumped gently on Genesis neck. “Much better,” he murmured, running a palm over shadowed hair, “Can you talk about it?”

He shook his head where it rested on the offered calf.

“Alright. Just sit then.” Slender, ever stronger fingers tugged through tangles and rubbed his scalp, “You’re always spoiling me, I wish I could do more for you.”

“I like spoiling you- ”

“I noticed.”

He smiled, just a touch, “And you do plenty.” With a lazy grope he snagged the hand dangling by his shoulder and squeezed it. “I was never so happy.”

Cloud flushed above him, pleased and embarrassed at once. He tried to duck into his sweater.

Genesis chuckled: “And you’re wearing my clothes again.”

“… It smells like you.”

He brought the hand to his lips: “I missed you too.”


End file.
